She was already perched on the corner of my computer hutch when I staggered into the studio this morning. She was back in her old pink rayon blouse and ratty tweed skirt, and had her knees crossed, showing more of the chubby pink thighs than I really wanted to see this early in the morning.

“Well, if you aren’t my ray of sunshine this morning.” She chirped.

“ *grumphh* ”. I answered back inarticulately.

“So. Are you going to do another one of those inane coffee posts today?”

“I am thinking of giving up blogging entirely. And lose that pencil skirt. You need to dress more age appropriately.”

“Ah, this from the sartorial maven who parades around the house in flimsy eight-dollar a pair athletic shorts, and who proudly wears scrubs with black socks and sandals to town, now lectures me on my outfit? So why do you want to give up blogging?”

“I don’t know. I grow more discontented with blogging every day. There’s a hole in my belly that just isn’t filled by daily writing like their used to be, and I am not sure where the discontent with writing is.”

“So you expect me to be your therapist? I can only help with ideas when your fingertips are on the QWERTY board. I flunked fairy psychology and God only knows what you mortals think. You wanna write, I am here for you. You wanna talk, go hire a therapist.”

[1] Main character from the book and movie “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.” Randle Patrick McMurphy, or simply R.P., is frequently on the wrong side of the law. Arrested for battery and gambling, McMurphy dodges a short prison sentence to a work camp by feigning insanity. He is transferred to a mental institution, run by Nurse Ratched. McMurphy often speaks of his sexual exploits to get under the skin of the sterile Ratched.